TDLVSC 61

Bang!
Bang!
Bang!

Three gunshots cracked through the air at the shooting range. Firearm training—something Jin Shiya had never touched in her previous life—was now routine in Noland’s world. In the Harris family, those who couldn’t shoot had already sealed their fate. The family didn’t expect sharpshooters, but basic training was non-negotiable.

Back when Noland was in China, strict gun control had limited his practice. But today, his mood was foul, and it showed—his three shots veered so wildly off course they might as well have floated into the sky.

He yanked off his noise-cancelling headphones and threw them to the ground. Then came the muttered curse, sharp and clear: “Shit.”
It was rare. Both Jin Shiya and Noland had been raised to be composed, refined—vulgarity was never their style. But sometimes, frustration demanded release, and right now, Noland was about to explode.

After the outburst, he casually tossed his protective goggles onto the gun table and walked over to the round sofa nearby. Picking up his phone, he opened WeChat without a word.

The shooting range manager stood at a respectful distance, not daring to speak. Sherman had stayed behind at the manor, leaving Fox—second-in-command, always in Sherman’s shadow—an opening. Fox knew the organization's ins and outs, and he wasn’t blind to the recent shifts in power.

Sherman’s mistake had clearly drawn Noland’s ire, and Fox had easily connected the dots. He thought Sherman had been reckless. As an assistant, their role was simple: handle Noland’s work and anticipate what he might need—not meddle in personal affairs. That domain belonged solely to Olissa.

Fox approached with a glass of orange juice and placed it on the table in front of Noland, who took it with a nod and sipped.

He glanced up briefly at Fox but said nothing.

Noland wasn’t fond of him. His name fit him too well—Fox. The man’s narrow, perpetually squinting eyes made him seem untrustworthy. Capable and efficient as he was, Noland just couldn’t get past his appearance.

As a proud member of the “appearance association,” Noland judged people first and foremost by how they looked. Jin Shiya, of course, existed behind eight hundred filters. But everyone else? Raw. Unfiltered. Often unimpressive.

Especially men. He couldn’t help but scrutinize them, wondering, If Jin Shiya were with this man... and then comparing them to himself: looks, wealth, background, intelligence. Very few came close.

Fox was no exception. Even with decent features, those squinty eyes ruined everything. And there was another habit Fox had that Noland found utterly unacceptable.

“Boss... are you upset because the family won’t accept Jin Shiya?” Fox asked, his tone full of misplaced confidence.

Noland looked at him flatly, deadpan.

“No.”

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TDLVSC 61